


When Your Childhood Dies

by ASmallLizard



Series: Is This What You Call a Family? [3]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Childhood Trauma, Gang Violence, Gen, Jet Star is a thug with a heart of gold, Jet Star origin story, Kobra Kid is cute, Origin Story, Party Poison is a good brother, Party Poison is an idiot, TRANS AM!!!, Venom brothers, Violence and Blood, before they meet Fun Ghoul, fistfights, is the best character, killjoy gang, killjoy thugs, the violence isn't really GRAPHIC but there is blood, zone world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26365702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASmallLizard/pseuds/ASmallLizard
Summary: Anything can be lost in an instant.And when you lose everything, what do you look for?
Relationships: Jet Star & Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Jet Star & Original Killjoy Character(s) (Danger Days), Jet Star & Party Poison (Danger Days), Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Series: Is This What You Call a Family? [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861591
Kudos: 14





	When Your Childhood Dies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my godsister :)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+godsister+%3A%29).



> This oneshot goes into the backstory Jet Star was talking about in in my last one. 
> 
> Dedicated to my godsister because she is my biggest supporter and loves Ray Toro. Hope you like this <3

The top layer of his skin was burning from the sun, sweat was soaking through his clothes, and his arms were so sore they felt like they would fall off. But none of those feelings mattered to Ray as he and his dad finally arrived home. 

The pups weren't playing outside. Not even Rocket could be seen. In the hottest part of the day, they were all inside, probably keeping cool by lying spread out on the floor. When his dad opened the door, Ray saw that he had been right, but all of them rose to their feet when they saw their dad and big brother were home. 

"Alright, alright, down, pups!" their dad laughed, peering past the crate in his arms at Ray's three younger brothers. Rocket, the actual dog, greeted the two of them by running in circles and jumping up at them. "Ray and I got our hands full. Let us unpack all our stuff from the market and then we'll play." 

It had been a very successful trip to the Zone market. What Ray's father lacked in carbons, he made up for in his unparalleled negotiation skills. They managed to get canned food, a few bottles of clean water, and other items they had been sorely lacking. They stacked the goods on the homemade shelf in the back corner of their one-room home, behind the dinner table. Ray's mother, holding his baby sister on her hip, quickly came to help, but not before kissing the both of them. 

"Your boy was a real help today," his dad said, clapping Ray on the back once he set the crate down. "No way I coulda carried all this by myself- he's gettin' strong! Good at deals, too. He managed to swing these shoes for the baby for only three carbons!"

Ray didn't stop loading the shelf with bottles and cans, but he allowed himself to beam. He liked helping his dad. He would be the one taking care of the family if anything happened to him, so Ray needed to learn just what it took to survive out here. And he was ready and willing to learn all of it.

Once his crate was empty, he turned to face his little brothers, who were all expectantly waiting for him. 

"Wanna play outside, Ray?" asked the youngest, a four year old with a mess of curly hair that matched Ray's. 

Ray shook his head. "Can't, kiddo. It's too hot out. But we can play in here."

"We've _been_ playing in here all day," complained the oldest of his brothers. "It's so boring."

Ray rubbed his chin in thought. Keeping the pups occupied was never easy when they were cooped up in their little shack. That's when he had an idea. 

"Here, I got it," he said. He picked up both supply crates, now empty, and set them both on their sides, facing away from each other. "Let's play Analog Wars."

And immediately the pups got in on the game. Two of them crouched behind one crate, two behind the other. Two were the good guys, the other two the pigs. Together, they recreated the war that resulted in their parents raising them in the desert, outside the faraway city. Using their hands as ray guns, the game took up the whole house as they ran around, shooting at each other. Their baby sister wanted to join, so Ray took her hand and let her toddle alongside him. Even Rocket got in on the fun; he didn't seem to choose a side but just had fun chasing all four of them around and barking along with their laughter. 

Any sense of time and the world around them vanished, and they became lost in the game. They could have been playing for hours or only a few minutes; nobody knew or cared. But the fun came to a screeching halt when a crash came from the front door. Ray turned to see that the front door was no longer there, but smashed into their kitchen table. Storming into their home were three men in white, with the rubber vampire masks that kept the pups awake at night. The faces that they feared were lurking in the darkness or would follow them inside after playing. Because it was all fun and games to play pretend, but the day the pigs stormed your home with their guns pointed and loaded was a nightmare brought to life. 

The screams of the pups rose up immediately. Acting on instinct, one that he was born with and trained on for years, Ray grabbed the baby from his mother, promptly handed her to one of his brothers, and pushed them all into the farthest corner of the shack. 

The Draculoids in the doorway turned their guns on Ray's parents. They couldn't speak- word around the Zones was that Dracs were dead bodies reanimated- but even at twelve Ray knew what they wanted. They wanted compliance. They wanted servitude. Ray's parents raising them all out here went against every rule in Battery City's rulebook, and what the pigs wanted was for them to be punished. 

But his parents hadn't been living unprepared. Ray's mom- that amazing woman- grabbed the shotgun they kept by the door and held it at the ready. And Ray knew she knew how to use it, too- she had scared off many a punk and wild animal before, and Dracs weren't much more than that. They took on a stare down with his mother, each daring the other to move at the threat of gunpoint. But nobody moved. Nobody gave up their ground. 

All the while, Rocket was at his father's heels, his hackles raised as he barked at the pigs. With a blast of a ray gun, his barking was cut short, and he collapsed in his own blood. That was when all hell broke out. 

It all happened so fast, Ray had no idea who shot first: his mother or the Dracs. He didn't even realize she had gone down until his dad screamed and lunged at the pigs, only to take a blast to the chest and hit the floor at his mother's side. 

The pups were wailing in animalistic noises. Ray stretched his arms out further and stepped back, smushing them further against the wall. When the Dracs turned on him, he didn't look away. He held his arms out as far as they could go, shielding the pups with his whole twelve-year-old span. He stood his ground, defying their cold stares, challenging them to move. 

He wouldn't let anything happen. The Dracs would leave, and he would take the pups far away and raise them all. He would do everything his father had taught him.

The Dracs didn't shoot. Instead, one grabbed Ray by the back of his shirt like a newborn puppy and threw him across the room. Before he could even scramble to his feet, the room was ablaze with laser blasts. 

They didn't even have a chance to scream, let alone a chance to run. Ray didn't have a chance to scramble to his feet, to rush at those pigs and fight back. It was all over in a flash of lights, a thunder of gunshots. And just as quickly as they came in and snuffed out the lives of every person Ray cared about, they were gone. They didn't seem to acknowledge Ray as they left. They must have figured he posed no threat- or maybe they figured he died from the shock. And in that moment, Ray wished he had. 

Ray still didn't move after they were gone. He _couldn't_ move. If he uncurled himself from his ball on the floor, he would see the bodies. He felt sick. He wanted his mother to hold him. But she wouldn't be moving, and neither would he. 

Something warm lapped against his back. He already knew what it was, but his stomach still lurched with nauseating horror when he turned around and saw he was now laying in blood. The world spun as he staggered to his feet. Red was everywhere. He couldn't tell whose blood was whose; it all ran together, coating the floor and now dripping from his back. He couldn't breathe, from shock and from the stench of death. He couldn't see anything but the color red. 

His mind wasn't with him when he ran. His mind was gone, and primal instinct guided him out the door, nearly slipping on the puddles of blood, and he bolted far across the empty desert. He ran until everything hurt and his chest burned, and he kept going. He ran until his body gave out and he collapsed in the sand. That's when his mind returned, and the reality of the situation truly sunk in.

He was alone in the world. 

His family was dead. 

And he couldn't save them. 

Grabbing useless fistfuls of sand, he curled into a ball and sobbed until he passed out.

**•••**

"Jet. Get up."

Rattler's voice was the only warning he got before he felt a sharp kick to his ribcage. Despite being delirious from sleep, Ray knew better than to wince, and he quickly sat up and brushed the sand out of his thick, curly hair. 

"We're movin' again. Get up." 

Knowing any more delay would result in another kick or worse, Ray quickly hauled himself to his feet, rolled up his sleeping bag, and shoved it in his bag. Most everyone was awake, but nobody was making an effort to pack. No surprise. As the lowest ranking member of the gang, Ray would be the one packing up the camp. 

Rattler pulled out a cigarette as he sat down on top of his sleeping bag as Ray gathered up food and drugs, rolled up sleeping bags and tossed aside empty beer bottles. If he got too close to anybody, they would let him know with a kick in the shin or a slug in the arm. One jabbed at him with a switchblade and laughed when Ray instinctively pulled back. 

"Hey!" snarled Rattler as he rose to his feet and gave the thug a smack across the head. "Don' touch Jet! We need 'im fightin' today!"

It had been six years since Rattler and his gang found him in the desert. It was only a few days after that fateful night, where he lost his family. Rattler had found him wandering in the sand, delirious from grief, and starving. He took the boy in and promised him protection from the big, scary world as long as he followed orders. He had him take up a Zone name, and Ray died, becoming Jet Star to the rest of the world.

They taught him how to use a gun and had him spying on enemies and keeping lookout at night. And eventually, he proved himself as a fighter. Opponents twice his size handed over the money or the information every time. The gang marveled at how the little kid could fight like that. Nobody ever really taught him how. It was just something he knew. What little Jet Star never told them was that, in every run-in, he was transported back to the night that changed his life. The guy they were mugging or blackmailing, he became a Draculoid. And Ray did exactly what he wished he did to the ones who took his family away. 

When cigarette butts and broken glass were all that was left of the campsite, they set out. Some climbed on motorcycles, but the ones who didn't have their own ride piled into Rattler's car. And they were on the move again, speeding at a hundred miles an hour through empty desert until Rattler decided to stop. The desert outside Ray's window was a blur, empty sand he had probably crossed over before, but there was no way to know for certain. Ray couldn't even remember what Zone they were in, and it didn't matter anyway. 

After what could have been a lifetime, they were pulling up to that Death Pegasus gas station in Zone 2. 

"Damn!" Rattler's sudden exclamation made Ray nearly hit his head on the ceiling. He almost did that anyway- he had gotten to be quite tall- but his body prickled with a cold chill as he wondered what Rattler could possibly be mad about. That's when he went on:

"Lookit that car!"

Parked outside the the station's shop was a car unlike any Ray had ever seen before. Long, low, and clearly built to pack a ton of speed, but what really caught the eye was the killer-looking spider painted across the hood. Designs ran down the sides as well, and the whole thing was enough to make a person drool. 

"We need it," Rattler said in a way that left no room for suggestion. "Jet, go get it." 

Ray should have known that was what he was going to say. At least if they had the car, he wouldn't have to squeeze in the backseat with the other rookies. Maybe Rattler would even let him keep it. 

He strode out of the car without a word. The owner of the car was probably in the shop, and that's where the keys would be. A faint chill from a semi-operational air conditioner graced his skin when he went inside. The owner wasn't hard to find, partly because he was the only customer in the store, and his hair was blazing scarlet. Oh, and he was also yelling up a storm. 

"For the last time, I don't have fifteen carbons!" he shouted at the person working the register. He didn't carry much of a Zone accent- a city-born, Ray figured. "I can't give you something I don't have!"

He looked to be roughly Ray's age, give or take a year. Not particularly tall, Ray dwarfed him by a good few inches, with little muscle definition save for the toning of his arms and shoulders that told stories the hardships one bore in the Zones. All and all, he was nobody Ray couldn't take out. 

"I only have five- c'mon, man, _look_ at the kid!"

That's when Ray realized the red-haired stranger wasn't alone. Shrinking behind him, a scrawny kid stood leaning against a shelf for support. The kid was young, about thirteen or fourteen, with blonde hair and was unusually pale. City-born or not, nobody stayed that pale under the fiery desert sun. Ray knew this look well enough to know he was very dehydrated. 

"He's about to pass out," the guy said, this time less angry and more desperate. "Could you just do the right thing and give him a water?"

Ray's heart sank with guilt for what he was about to do. But when Rattler wanted something, there was no denying him, and Ray had known him long enough to know what would happen to him if he disobeyed a direct order. So he marched over, grabbed the guy by the collar of his jacket, and pinned him to the countertop. The guy immediately fought back, writhing under Ray's grasp and kicking at him. 

"Your keys," Ray said in a low rumble as he shot every ounce of aggression he had into his victim's eyes. "Hand 'em over."

The red-haired guy didn't stop squirming, not even when Ray moved his forearm from across his chest to against his throat, choking him. He could hear the store owner screaming at Ray to leave, but Ray kept at his job. The blonde kid didn't even enter Ray's line of vision; he seemed too weak to do anything. Probably terrified, too. 

Maybe it was because Ray was distracted, his mind not fully present for this encounter. Or maybe it was because this city kid was just a born fighter. But either way, his boot found its target and nailed Ray in the crotch. 

When Ray doubled over in pain, the guy leapt off the counter and came for his head. Just before he could touch him, Ray ignored the pain, stood up and threw a punch between his eyes. Screeching curses, the guy staggered on his feet but still prepared to attempt another shot. But it was the skinny blonde kid who was the first to fall, collapsing with a lifeless sound to the tile floor. 

He was still swaying, but the sight was enough to wake the guy up a bit. "Kobra!" he cried as he dropped to the floor, pulling the kid into his arms. He held the kid close with nothing but his own outstretched hand to shield him from Ray.

"Don't hurt him," he growled, not taking his eyes off the boy. "I swear, you better not hurt 'im."

Something about this image made Ray suddenly feel weak in the knees. The way he held the kid, like something more precious than his own life was in his arms. It reminded Ray of something he had spent years trying to forget: that he would give anything to hold his loved ones that close just one more time. But Ray knew they wouldn't like the person they would see. 

His dad wouldn't be proud of him, that was for sure. The man he had grown up to be was a far cry from the one his dad had wanted him to be. His mother would cry, and all the pups would be scared of him. Hell, even Rocket would turn away from the stench of cigarette smoke that clung to him. He hadn't chosen for himself a life of violence and theft, but it had still become his identity. 

Suddenly the shop doors opened with a slam and a whoosh, and instinctively Ray jumped. 

"Jet!" Rattler boomed. "What's th' holdup? Where're th' keys?"

Ray's whole body tensed, but in an instant he was standing in front of the two boys on the floor, his arms stretched wide. 

"Jet, what the hell d'ya think yer doin'?" Rattler demanded, his eyes locked on Ray like heat-seeking missiles. 

Ray couldn't say anything. He forgot how to speak. He just planted his feet as deep into the ground as possible, held his arms open wide and braced for impact. 

"Yer gettin' soft _now?_ " Rattler said. "Damnit, Jet, I always knew there was somethin' off about ya. If ya keep actin' like a wuss I'm gonna kill ya. So are ya gonna do what I asked ya to?"

Ray didn't even know these people's names. This could be just as good as suicide. But he couldn't let these kids die. Not again. At least if Rattler killed him, he would die someone his family could be proud of. Maybe they'd tell him so when he saw them again. 

That was his thought as Rattler came charging at him. Shoulder, elbow, fist, his whole arm came to life and threw a punch at the blur in front of his face. It landed so hard it bloodied Ray's knuckles, but he didn't notice that until he sprang for the door, yelling something he couldn't remember to the red-haired kid behind him. He waited breathlessly in the front seat of the spider-car as the guy chased after him, the blonde kid hoisted over his shoulder. 

"What're you doing in my car?" the guy demanded. "I'm not giving you my keys!"

"I wanna help you!" Ray explained, his adrenaline too high to lose patience. "I know another outpost where you can get 'im water." 

The guy eyed Ray skeptically. 

"They're gonna kill us if we don't go now!" Ray's voice was breaking; he could see the shop door swinging open. "Just trust me!"

Whether he trusted Ray or not, he stopped hesitating and gently rested the kid in the back seat before climbing into the seat next to him. "You better be fast."

"You have no idea." 

They exploded out of the parking lot before Rattler and his crew even had a chance to make it to their car. Once again, the desert became a blur of beige and blue, but this time he had a destination in mind. The front bumper of Rattler's old maroon car dared to get closer, but it just couldn't touch the spider car. Both engines roared with the sounds of max speed and power until, finally, Rattler must have given up, his car disappeared behind them. 

"Thank the Witch," Ray breathed when they were finally alone on the desert road. 

The red haired kid smirked. "Course we did. No car in the Zones can outrun the Trans Am. She's in a league of her own."

"She's an amazing car," Ray said. 

"I know. Worth every carbon," the kid bragged. "Fixed 'er up and made 'er pretty. We live in this thing."

A motorbaby. Living from place to place. Kind of like Ray. 

"Well, if I'm drivin' your car, you should know that my name's Jet Star." Nobody went by their birth names out here. Even if he was city-born, he probably picked up a Zone name. 

"I'm Party Poison," said the kid. "The little guy's Kobra Kid."

"He your friend?"

"Brother."

The word made Ray's stomach do a flip. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, well I better get my keys back when this is over," Party said with a sniff. 

Ray wanted to roll his eyes, but since he almost knocked him unconscious over the keys, he supposed he had this coming. "You will. I promise." 

When they made it to the outpost in Zone 3, Ray instructed Party to stay with his brother while he went inside. For once, Party didn't argue, and he let Ray bolt into the store. He scanned the shop for a moment before spotting a mini-fridge humming against the wall. He made a beeline for it and pulled out every bottle of water inside. It wasn't enough and was hardly cold, but he would take what he could. 

Dropping them all on the counter so they nearly rolled off the edge, Ray fished around in his pocket for what few carbons he had. 

"I've only got ten," he said, plunking them down on the counter. "Can you do me a favor? 'S for a kid, he's sick."

But by the way he shook his head, the store owner was clearly not a sympathetic person. Out here, few people were. "Thirty-five. Pay full price or get the hell out of my store."

Thirty-five? Clean water was hard to come by in the Zones, but that was highway robbery for a few bottles. His dad would have been able to work out a deal with him, but Ray didn't have time to haggle. The kid couldn't afford it. With a single swing, he slammed the counter as hard as he could, and the boom that sounded echoed through the tiny shop. When the owner flinched, Ray grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him inches from his face. 

"One more time:" he snarled. "I need these waters, and I'm gonna pay you ten carbons for 'em. Am I clear?"

Only when the owner finally nodded did Ray let him go. Without another glance at him, Ray collected the bottles and strode outside. He couldn't help but be a little pleased with himself; wasn't his dad's method, but Ray liked to think he was one of the best negotiators in the Zones. 

In the Trans Am, Kobra Kid seemed even worse off than before. His whole weight was against Party's side, and though his eyes were technically open, they were dull and out of focus, barely peeking out under his drooping eyelids. 

Ray handed the bottles to Party, who quickly unscrewed one and poured it into Kobra's mouth. He gave him water until he finally swallowed, and he stirred slightly. As Kobra panted, Party poured the rest of the bottle on his face and arms. Little by little the kid returned to life. After his dull green eyes fluttered, they suddenly looked much more alert. 

"G- Party," he said weakly.

For the first time since meeting him, Ray saw Party smile. "Yeah, Kobes. It's Party. Told you I'd get you water, didn't I?"

"Where are we?"

"Zone 3- no, don't move around too much." Party quickly took hold of Kobra again when he tried to sit up, craning his neck to check out the new surroundings. "You need to rest. Here, drink some more." 

He cracked open the second bottle and poured it into Kobra's mouth until he could take it in his own hands. Ray felt his chest lighten when he saw this; looked like the kid was gonna be fine, probably. The brothers' struggles out here were far from over, they all knew that, but at least the two of them would live to fight another day. 

"Here," he said as fished Party's keys out of his pocket and handed them to him. Party practically snatched them out of his hands, but once they were in his possession his gaze lingered on Jet. It was a very loud look, one full of suspicion yet also confusion.

"What?" questioned Jet. "I told you I was gonna give 'em back."

"Well, it's weird to see after tried to jump me back there," Party said defensively. "Why're you suddenly bein' so nice to us?"

There was so much he could say. About how seeing Party care for his little brother stirred up some old feelings deep inside him. About how, if he couldn't save his own little brothers, the least he could do for the world was help someone else save theirs. But instead all he said was:

"I couldn't let the kid suffer."

"What about those assholes in the store? You were with them?"

"Not anymore." 

He couldn't go back to Rattler and his gang. Even if he could, he didn't want to. He was grown now, and he could choose how he was going to live his life. And for however long a life he had left, he was going to make it a clean one. He was done fighting people without a good reason for it. He would help people, the way Party helped his little brother. 

Party's scrupulous eye did not leave him. "Do you know where you're goin' now?"

He didn't. He had no idea where he was going, and he had no ride to get there.

"I'll figure it out."

Kobra turned to Party. Without even having to say a word, Party studied his expression, and his face softened with a defeated sigh. 

"Wanna come with us? Kobra likes you."

Leaving one group of people to immediately enter a new one. But Ray liked this little family. And besides, Kobra could fall into another dehydration spell if he didn't have access to water. They needed Ray's help. He didn't have to mention that the two of them reminded him of his little brothers. He would look after them regardless. 

"Sure."

He and Party switched seats, and when he sidled in next to Kobra, the kid gave a little smile. 

"Hi," he said quietly, his voice cracking with fatigue. "I'm Kobra Kid."

Ray smiled back. "I'm Jet Star." 

Party dropped into the front seat and slid on his sunglasses. "Better hold back that hair of yours, Jet," he said as he revved the engine one, two, three times to show off. "Don't think you've ever gone this fast before."

With an amused shake of his head, Jet smirked. "Okay, Party Poison. Lead the way."

The Trans Am roared to life as they exploded down the road. It was bright and exhilarating and fast, really fast- faster than he had ever gone with Rattler. With every window rolled down, their hair blew back at the sheer speed. As Party whooped into the wind, and Kobra closed his eyes to rest- the kid was still exhausted, and evidently Party's speed trips no longer fazed him- Jet looked out the window and couldn't help but smile a little. He had no idea where Party was leading them- or if _he_ even knew where they were going- but he was excited for it. These two were different than the thugs he had grown up with. They were giving him a chance to be someone new, maybe the person he was meant to be all along. His parents would be proud of him, he thought. He knew he would protect Party and Kobra, as well as he wished he could have protected his family. He would be the person his family wanted him to be, even if they weren't here to see it. 

So he smiled, let the wind rush through his hair, and rushed towards the days of danger ahead of him.


End file.
